I know you are out there
howling in the darkness,
Moonlight glinting in your
eyes of blackest opal,
With the sweet scent of
blood in your nostrils,
you wait like Anubis,
Guardian of the Scales,
to determine whether
my soul is heavier
than an ostrich feather

An illusion in the mind
Twisting and turning through time
Endless hunt
Surroundings repeat, seemingly stuck in a rut
Running, running, running
This beast is too cunning
No tracks, no scent, no way to find where it hides
In the darkness it lies
Waiting for just the right time...
When will it strike?
There's nothing to do but wait,
Let a few tears roll down in angst.
Aside from that just run until you go insane...
For the Beast, it calls your name.